The Professor
Chapter 1: The Paroled Potions Professor
As part of his parole, Draco must return to Hogwarts to fill the now, cursed Potions Professor position. Returning to the place where he lost his parents and his entire life isn't easy especially when his old Gryffindor classmates are teaching there.
Draco Malfoy stood in front of the mirror staring at himself with utter loathing. He was going back, back to the hell hole that took everything from him. He straightened his tie as he stared in the mirror.
Hogwarts had been the place his mother was killed by Voldemort and his father by bumbling idiots called Aurors. His life had only been spared because of… Draco rubbed his chest. Fucking Weasley. It had to be him, hadn't it? Couldn't it have been Saint-Potter that saved his life?
Bloody Ginger prick went and saved Draco's life after his father ended his brother's. Worse, Ron Weasley knew his father was the one who cast the bombarda that collapsed a wall on one of his twins brothers. He had testified as much when Draco was accused of killing Fred Weasley, simply because someone saw white hair behind a mask.
Weasley's testimony didn't matter in the end though, Draco was still sentenced to Azkaban by the Wizengamot. They also tried to seize Malfoy Manor and all of Malfoy holdings after they sentenced him to death via life in prison.
Imbeciles.
Almost six years later and they still couldn't get onto the property. He knew because the guard in his cell would drop him off the Prophet once a week. The guard was convinced that Draco would get out of prison and when he did, he would bestow some magical inheritance on him. It was through the guard that Draco had learned that Gringotts refused the Ministry's demands for money withdrawals from his account and the Curse Breakers inability to remove his familial wards on his vault and home. They were Malfoys, what did they expect?
As Draco was the last of the Malfoy family line, there wasn't anyone else to actually get them passed the initial wards on the property. He had, of course, told them all of this in court, after they sentenced him to life in prison and then thought they would throw it in his face that they were taking all of his money. What did he need his money for in prison?
It had taken six years but his solicitor was finally able to get him an appeal. After six months of going head to head with the Ministry of Magic, the Minister of Magic himself offered Draco a plea deal. Endure angst-fueled teenagers at Hogwarts or the cold hallowed walls of Azkaban, it wasn't really a choice, was it? As the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had transferred to the Potions Professor, it was worse.
Every teacher that held the position since Snape's demise was incapacitated within three months of accepting the position. No one wanted to teach the position, but the students still had to learn. Whose life was better to throw away than a convicted felon?
Draco leaned over the table in the sparse and dimly lit room, he had been provided with and tossed back a potion. The pressure eased from his chest until it was remotely bearable. Right now he needed to rest.
There was something Azkaban was good for, rest. Draco's injuries sustained from the final battle were never healed properly and therefore, had become chronic. While he took daily potions to keep him alive, it was the quality in life that was severely lacking.
Why keep someone alive in a dusty freezing cell, just so that you can spend hundreds of galleons a year to pay for their mass amounts of potions needed to keep them amongst the living? It was a waste of everyone's fucking taxes, including his own that he was still paying.
A quiet knock on the door pulled Draco from his thoughts. "Mr. Malfoy, are you ready?"
"Yes, Auror Bartley." Auror James Bartley had been slipping him extra food rations, The Daily Prophet, and the occasional chocolate bar while Draco was incarcerated.
The door opened to admit the bucktoothed balding Auror. Draco nodded to him as he guided him down the hallway and towards his new cell, Hogwarts. Well, he would need to go to the Warden's office first to use the Floo, but then Hogwarts.
Just as they approached the door Auror Bartley placed a warm hand on Draco's shoulder. "Don't be getting in any trouble Mister Draco. Them fancy solicitors worked really to get you out of prison. I don't want to be seeing you back here."
Draco quirked an eyebrow. He thought momentarily about snapping back when he realized there was a very likely chance Draco would be back within the year. Best not piss off the one person who didn't hate him.
"Take care of yourself, Auror Bartley. Look after your daughter." The Auror's face lit up at the mention of his young daughter, whom he shared custody of with his estranged wife. Ushering him through the door to the Warden's office Draco could swear he saw tears in the wizard's eyes as the door closed behind him.
"Malfoy," came the cold and angry voice that Draco learned to hate. Draco contemplated sitting on one of the extremely familiar steel chairs in front of the Warden's desk. He decided against it. He had learned long ago that when the Warden was in a particularly foul mood, he was known to spell the ropes on the armrests of the chair to burn the inmate's wrists until they passed out.
Draco had been a victim of this tactic multiple times and he had the scars to prove it. The Warden had it recorded as a suicide attempt, but everyone in the prison knew better. Half of the inmates shared those scars. Draco knew if he passed out in the Warden's office today, it would not be a fabricated story of self-aggression but one of aggression towards the Warden and Draco would be stuck in this hellhole forever.
Draco chose, instead, to stand behind the chairs. Standing at his vantage point made Draco taller than the seated Warden. That gave Draco the higher ground and was a small comfort to him as he stood in the room that was the reason for many nights spent in the infirmary. He could also see that the immaculately clean desk had only three items on it that were not visible when one was seated. A calendar that informed Draco that it was the first week of July in 2004, a parchment and self-inking quill, and a picture of the warden at Hogwarts with his arm around a ginger in a beater Quidditch uniform.
Draco tore his eyes away from the picture and resisted the urge to sneer, something the Warden was famous for doing just before he began issuing punishments. "Jordan." He responded calmly.
"It's Warden Jordan, to you." Lee Jordan was sitting straight in his oversized chair, his dark feature reddish in hue. If there was one prisoner Lee Jordan hated, it was Draco Malfoy.
Draco's father killed his best mate and since his father wasn't around to torture, he took it out on Draco. It was small things like missed showers, being placed in solitary, or not being allowed visitors, but when one only had these small things, they added up.
"I hear you're going to miss me, Jordan."
Lee Jordan ground his teeth together. "I fought the appeal tooth and nail Malfoy. Tooth and fucking nail. You deserve to rot in that cell."
Draco inspected his fingers looking for dirt that, for the first time in almost seven years, was not there. "Well, clearly the Minister and the Wizengamot don't agree with you."
"Keep being cocky Malfoy. When they toss you back in here I am going to make your life a living hell." Jordan's hand twitched towards his wand and Draco's nerves went into overdrive. Why did he have to see the Warden in order to leave? Couldn't the Aurors just collect him and take him directly through the Floo?
"Let's be honest Jordan, you did everything you can do within the confines of the law. Sure, go ahead and violate the laws set down by the Wizengamot. You've met my solicitor. I'll have you in an adjoining cell because Merlin knows that'll be entertaining."
Jordan's eyes went wide. "Get out! There's the Floo. OUT!"
"My wand?" Draco asked patiently.
"Minerva has it. Get out of my fucking prison you useless piece of shite."
Draco nodded and turned his back on the Warden. The Floo was lit for him and unlike normal Floos, this Floo was keyed to only the Ministry. Auror Bartley said they had to bring in three specialized wizards just to connect his visit to Hogwarts for today. His solicitor tried his very hardest to navigate his way around having Draco transported through the Ministry. Protocol dictated that when a prisoner transport was being arranged that they go through the Azkaban Auror office on the main floor of the prison. Their Floo was directly connected to the Auror Office in the Ministry.
Apparently, the Minister of Magic was concerned about Draco making an appearance within the Ministry and on Diagon. Draco knew that Auror Bartley was hiding something from him. A little over a year ago, James started cutting out sections of the Prophet or hiding entire pages of it. When Draco asked him about it, he claimed his daughter liked to look at the pictures on those pages. Draco knew his daughter lived with his wife and that there was no way an eight year old read the Prophet.
Draco tried to ask the other guards about it, but his questions only enraged them to the point that Draco stopped asking. Whatever had happened, everyone knew about it and it shook the Wizarding World. It was also, quite obviously, something to do with Draco and his family.
Stepping through the Floo, Draco briefly wondered if he was making a mistake. If he should stay in in the prison he knew rather than one he did not. The flames engulfed him just as he steadied his resolve that out of Azkaban he could at least look up a Daily Prophet from the last two years.
Minerva McGonagall was sitting behind her desk looking as stern as she had his first year of Hogwarts at the sorting. The office had clearly been redecorated. During Professor Dumbledore's reign of office, the room looked like a thrift shop. It was cluttered with useless things and more rugs and tapestries than there was floor or wall space. Professor Snape had left up half of Professor Dumbledore's things as well moved in a Potions lab. Thank Merlin, he had rid the room of all Dumbledore's rugs and tapestries, Professor McGonagall however, did not feel the same as either male Professor.
The office had large windows that took up most of the North wall and boasted a light grey carpet instead of hardwood floors. The walls held only the portraits of the previous Headmaster, excluding Severus, and the surfaces of the furniture were clear of knick-knacks and other random magical items.
"Mr. Malfoy, do have a seat." When Draco still hadn't moved, she waved an irritated hand towards the seat in front of the desk. "You're crowding the Floo. We do have other teachers arriving shortly."
Draco walked swiftly towards the proffered chair in front of the now, Headmistress.
Draco squared his shoulders, "You have the list of rules?"
Professor McGonagall laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. She looked him up and down for several heartbeats before collapsing her hands into her lap and leaning back in her chair.
"Draco, I won't lie. I currently have half of my parents infuriated that I have hired you as a teacher and the other half incensed that I have not been able to secure a Potions Professor."
"You realize you could have hired a ghost and saved yourself the trouble?" Draco responded sarcastically.
"During the final battle, we discovered just how… unhelpful a non-corporal teacher is during an emergency situation. Hogwarts, for the foreseeable future, will not be employing ghosts."
Draco gulped nervously. "What happened?"
Professor McGonagall eyes fell, "We lost two entire second-year classes. Slytherin and Ravenclaws. The hallway collapsed and had there been an adult there, they would have been easily able to transport the children to safety. Mr. Filch was able to save three of the children."
Draco rubbed his eyes. "It was in the East wing, wasn't it?"
"Yes," she responded. The East Wing wall that his father had destroyed. Draco rubbed at his chest. That was the Malfoy family dynasty, murdering children and ripping apart families one generation at a time. Now, Draco was supposed to teach these children? Merlin, Hogwarts was closed the year following the war. That meant that the second years would be in their seventh year. Draco pulled at his tie. He did not sign up for this. He did not- "Our seventh and eighth-year class have been combined. The class is considerably smaller than we are used to and extremely well behaved. Given everything they went through, it is not a surprise."
"What do you want from me?" Draco asked, all fight having gone out of him.
"I want for you to teach the children potions." Drawing a parchment from her desk, she handed it to Draco. Draco could see the outline of his wand within the parchment "Sign this and return it to me in the morning. You can let me know if there is anything that needs to be amended at breakfast in the morning. Meals in the Great Hall are mandatory year round, I'm afraid. Many children were left orphaned from the war, so Hogwarts offered an extended stay program. We currently have eleven children in the house. The rest are visiting friends or interning for jobs after they graduate. Since the students are here year round, so are we."
"My quarters?"
"The house elves have informed me that Severus's old quarters have been opened to you. I hadn't realized he was your godfather."
Draco stood from the chair, the parchment clutched in his fingertips. "There are a lot of things no one knew about my godfather."
"Yes, Draco and the world is a darker place without him in it." She said softly, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. With that, she returned to her paperwork effectively dismissing Draco.
Draco hurried out of the Headmasters office and unrolled the parchment as he descended the winding stairs. He tried to lift his wand but there was a sticking charm to it. He probably needed to sign the contract prior to his wand being released to him.
Thankfully, there was no one in the halls or on the stairs as he made a quick descent to the dungeons. Slipping into Severus's quarters was easy, settling into Severus's thing was not so. No one had gone through his things after he died. Everything was just… sitting. As if he had left to scold Crabbe and Goyle for losing house points or failing a class and would return in any minute.
His personal quarters were immaculate. Despite not being used for six years they were clean with not a speck of dust to be found. On the small dining table was a plate of steaming roast chicken with peas and mash potatoes. It was accompanied with butterbeer and a pot of tea. After inspecting it that it hadn't been sitting for six years, Draco went to the bathroom and washed up before drinking a cup of tea.
Having been living off of prison food for far too long, Draco took small bites. He had only managed seven or eight small bites before his stomach protested and the meal resurfaced. After cleaning himself off again, he brought the tea set to the study area and withdrew the parchment.
He was going to need to sign it so he could have his wand back. It didn't really matter what it was required of him, he didn't really have a choice did he?
Draco began to unroll the parchment when he heard a child's giggle. He stood on instinct his eyes wide searching for the source of the noise.
Straining his ears he heard the noise again but this time it was coming from the potions classroom attached to the living quarters. Draco pushed the door open just in time to make out a dark red head of hair whipping out of the darkened classroom and into the hallway. Draco took a step forward to pursue the small redhead when he inhaled a lungful of dust and sneezed.
The room hadn't likely been used in as long as his quarters were. Turning back on his heel he returned to his room convinced he was seeing things and needed to sleep.
As the door closed behind him a pair of glowing eyes followed him until he was in his bed before giggling and skipping out, once more into the hallway.